


Summer

by a_q



Category: X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Animalistic, Blood, Incest, M/M, Outdoor Sex, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the D-Day, the war rages on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ponderosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/gifts).



The sky was ash-gray, the distant rain of fire and metal creating a sickly halo of red and gold over the destroyed land.

Logan dug his hands deeper into the ground, the dirt soft and fragrant. It felt cold against his naked skin, a long-sought relief to his burning body. He was so alive that he couldn't distinguish the edges of himself from the frothy soil he laid on. Every cell of his body thrummed with the earth, the forest ablaze with life, the summer roaring with thousand senseless voices. The world was exploding into pieces around him, but here and now it meant nothing.

Victor held him down, his weight on him too familiar and slammed into him as hard as he pleased, tearing him open without a care. His flesh reconstructed insensately, a blind automaton. It would've been easier to stay broken in Victor's hold, but it wasn't a choice he could make. He groaned and pushed back to take more of him, the sound of their joint flesh filling his head. They were both slick with blood and come, covered with grime and filth. His body convulsed again, the orgasm a bright light bursting inside Logan's head.

Victor clawed his side, burrowing his nails as deep as they would go, fresh blood running in hot rivers on his sides and legs. He screamed, mouth full of earth, the taste of grass and soil blunt on his tongue. He bit down and chewed its grainy texture. It was firm and unyielding, nothing he could do to it that the earth wouldn't heal. Not like the men dying in the barrage of bullets, their frail silk-like flesh ripped between his fangs, under Victor's claws.

Victor came, but his thrusts slowed only for a moment. They had butchered men for weeks now, lost in the sea of blood and power. They had forgotten how to stop, wandered too far into the dark. They had peeled off their humanity and cast it aside like clothing. They were free, for there was no time here, no rules, no moral. There was only life, and with that, the pain of existence.

They were the only ones without escape, because death didn't welcome them to its embrace. So they drowned to the only thing they could, the mute depths of their bodies, where all lines bled together into one muddled color. Victor grunted again, every push causing a lewd sound, a new spark of fullness and purpose. Logan wanted him to stop, and go on forever, the two opposite impulses battling inside his skull, when his body laid pliant on the ground.

The forest moved, the sky crackled with color and noise, and Logan cried without knowing it, an insignificant part of the destruction; glorious, bloody and eternal.


End file.
